05

Ch 2: PETALS AND PRETENSE

The village smelled the same. 

Like roasted peanuts crackling in their shells, jaggery melting in heavy-bottomed pans, and the faint musk of wet earth—clinging to every brick, every leaf, after the first teasing monsoon shower. It was the kind of scent that lived under your skin, that curled in your memories like a bookmark in an old story. 

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Writing about love, family, and the chaos in between.